


Sleep and Find Me by the Fire Glow

by dirthara



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: A tremendous amount of kissing, Absolutely no trans suffering, Bisexual Author, Bisexual Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Bisexual Solas (Dragon Age), Developing Relationship, Fade Dreams, M/M, Mage Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Reimagining of the beginning of a romance between my Inquisitor and Solas, Sexual Tension, Trans Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Trans Male Character, mlm author, trans man author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22378705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirthara/pseuds/dirthara
Summary: Fen'an Lavellan and Solas are lost in a flirtatious game. With each conversation, their feelings for each other deepen until their dreams overlap. Solas' secrets threaten to shatter the possibility growing between them. But with a spirit of compassion watching over them, they still may have a chance.
Relationships: Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Male Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Male Lavellan/Solas
Comments: 16
Kudos: 59
Collections: Aisteach Reads





	Sleep and Find Me by the Fire Glow

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of the beginning of a romance between my Inquisitor, Fen'an Lavellan, and Solas. I retained some aspects of the canon Solavellan romance, but rewrote the majority based on how I imagined it would begin. This is part of an on-going series of short pieces detailing their growing feelings for each other. If you would like to read more about the two of them, you can find my short pieces [here](https://firewatergarden.tumblr.com/tagged/fen%27an-x-solas).

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

The chirping of birds accented the cold late afternoon air. Warm sunlight danced through the trees in the southern regions of the Hinterlands. Solas paused, his breathing heavier than normal as they crested a hill. He shot a cursory glance behind them. Fen’an noticed and smiled to himself. He had planned this question, listening to the growing bickering of Cassandra and Varric behind them. He only spoke when he had been sure they were truly alone.

Amusement played at the corner of Solas’ mouth, though he did what he could to hide it. He eyes gave him away, watching Fen’an, curious but guarded as he always was. “Naturally. It’s hard to forget a day like that. Why do you ask, I wonder?”

Fen’an walked on, putting more distance between them and their friends. The tug of Solas’ presence, close and intrigued, cloaked him in warmth. He picked his way across a shallow stream, choosing his words carefully. “I was simply curious about your impressions, about what you remember.”

Solas was quiet for a time, the trickle of the water, the flutter of the leaves, and the distant sound of animals filling the silent spaces. Then he spoke, his voice dreamy disant, as though deep in a memory.

“When they first spoke of you, it was as though you were a demon spat from the depths of the fade, a twisted creature who had somehow survived. I knew this was an exaggeration of their traumatized minds. I was correct. However, you were different than what I imagined as well. I watched over you as you slept, as your body grew accustomed to the mark on your hand, wondering if you would live or die and only hoping that what my magic could do would buy you some time. I feared you wouldn’t wake, feared I would lose you to dreams.”

Fen’an teeth worried the inside of his cheek as they walked. The stream widened, rushing towards an outcropping of rock and the shadows deepened. Solas continued.

“When your fever broke and you woke, they took you for questioning before I could say a word. By then my curiosity had only grown. I wished to speak to you, ask you questions of my own, but Cassandra felt chaining you and interrogating you was the most appropriate course of action.”

“Sounds like her,” Fen’an said, laughter in his voice.

“It does, does it not?” Solas smiled, pausing to lean on his staff, dappled sunlight dancing down his cheek. “When I met you, truly met you, you were again not what I had expected. Despite myself, I had an impression of you after so many nights spent by your bedside. When you crested that broken wall, staff in hand, bristling with sharp determination, you shattered my perceptions again.”

“In a good way, I hope.”

Solas’ gaze swept his face. His smile changed. “Very much so. You exhibited a peerless intensity in battle, focus which I had not encountered before. And when the fighting was finished, despite being in the midst of an unrivaled catastrophe, you cut Cassandra’s seriousness with your wit. You showed us all...” He paused, searching for words. With gentle annoyance, he switched to elven. “You revealed your soul, even as the sky was tearing itself apart.”

Fen’an soaked in his expression. Honesty, reverence, all while describing him. Heat flooded his body and he smiled to himself.

“The first thing I noticed about you was your voice,” he said, dragging his thumb over the rough wood of his staff. “Deep and rich. You laughed, a joyful sound despite the chaos raining down around us. You were so still, confident and sure, despite it all. I joked to break the tension and shield myself from the horrible anxiety gripping me as my hand pulsed. But you were so solid, seemingly immoveable.”

“I’m honored to have seemed so strong in your eyes. However, that was hardly the case. I had seen crises like that one before, another wrinkle in history, one I hoped we could right. I believed. But, like you, I used laughter to stave off the worst of my fears.”

They slowed again, hovering close, watching each other. Above the mountains, the sun had begun to drift, lazily making its way towards the horizon. Fen’an searched his face, then asked the question burning in his mind.

“What assumptions did you make about me?”

Solas’ mouth twitched and he glanced away. A subtle sadness burrowed into his amused expression. “As I told you, my interactions with the Dalish have not always been pleasant. I expected our interactions would be similar. I was mistaken.”

Behind them, Varric’s laughter rang through the small valley, threatening to disrupt the bubble of comfort that had wrapped around them. Cassandra’s tirade continued, her words indistinct but loud enough to be heard. Fen’an focused on Solas. Solas met the scrutiny.

“Why do you ask, my friend?”

Those words, such tender meaning. Fen'an drank in the familiarity.

“I think about that night often. It trickles into my dreams, my thoughts, without warning. I think about your smile, the weight of your fingers on my wrist, fighting by your side. At first I thought it was the fade or the anchor, pulling me back to that moment. Perhaps it is. But in my dreams it’s something else. In my dreams—”

“In your dreams, I touch you more than a single, fleeting moment.”

The din of the waterfall grew, the shadow of the overhang above engulfing them. Solas’ eyes shone in the darkness. Fen’an’s pulse sped, shivers cascading through his body.

“How did you know that?”

Solas stepped closer, fingertips trailing down the edge of Fen’an’s coat. “I didn’t. I only hoped. For my dreams are the same. Thank you for confirming my suspicions.”

“What are you two doing? There could be red templars anywhere. We need to keep moving.” Cassandra stomped through, snapping the tense air. Before Fen’an could fully register it, Solas’ hand was gone and the distance between them had grown.

“Don’t mind her, she’s a disgruntled literary critic.” Varric called, clapping her on the back as they trudged on. When he thought they were out of earshot, he nudged her. “Would it kill you to read the room?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Nevermind,” Varric sighed.

Fen’an and Solas walked on, closer than they had been before, but Solas’ smile was lit by syrupy sunset light.

#

They made a camp up river, a day's journey from a rift crawling with greater terrors, according to the scout reports. Their tents sat just beyond the pool of light spilling from the closest farm. Night pressed in regardless, inky black and heavy with the hum of insects and burbling water. It was the best camp they’d had for over a week, the last two having been in the cramped, freezing bowels of a cave.

Yet sleep evaded Fen’an, dancing just beyond his reach.

He lay on his back, body half exposed to the night air. Candlelight dripped down the horizontal scars across his chest. Sweat gathered beneath his limbs, buried under blankets, contrasted against the chill of the evening air. Every time he closed his eyes, Solas’ voice echoed through his mind. The ghost of those words burned through him, chasing away any hope of easily drifting into sleep.

The warring snores of their companions serrated the stillness as the night grew older. Fen’an tossed, consciousness slipping away only to return like cold crawling beneath his blankets. He thought about rising, slipping on a shirt and walking into the dark until the freezing air or the threat of bandits pushed him back into his tent, hoping then he’d be tired enough to sleep. He ignored the compulsion, turning over again and watching the candle light flickering against the tent until his eyes drooped.

Images swamped his mind. The Hinterlands in the morning, the soft flutter of bird wings. The patter of rain on the Storm Coast, rhythmic crash of waves against the rocks. Distant rock crumbling down so deep, roads crawling through the earth like veins of some impossible, unknowable creature. A library twisted in on itself, books tumbling and the flutter of pages, the ever present scent of candle wax. Everything melted, melded, transposing themselves into a place Fen’an had never seen before. Stillness. A dark hallway. Distant light spilling in through a teardrop doorway. The whisper of forgotten relics rimmed in gold. It became clearer, the soft patter of rain and bird song, the scent of embrium and paint thickening the air. A veilfire torch lit a corner, a figure. Solas stood, dressed casually, dragging a paintbrush across the wall in smooth, even strokes. The bristles whispered against the stone. A dream.

Fen’an took in the mural stretching across the wall. Massive yawning shapes, the sharp profile of a wolf, figures making their way across a landscape towards some unknown tower.

“It’s stunning,” he said, stepping closer, his footsteps echoing against the stones.

Solas startled, but quickly composed himself. He glanced over his shoulder, watching Fen’an with poised uncertainty. The brush in his hand dissolved in a shimmer of light.

“You’re here,” he said, voice nearly a whisper.

Fen’an furrowed his brows. “Should I not be?”

“I—” Solas let out a soft laugh. “Not necessarily. I didn’t expect it, though your company is never unwelcome.”

“You—” Fen’an started, then faltered as the sound of the rain lowered and disappeared. The walls shifted, thick stone blocks pulling apart. Subtle green spilled out between the cracks. “This isn’t my dream.”

“No, not exactly. Although, I suppose it’s ours now.”

The stone walls melted. The mural dripped away, fading until lost. Thick woods filled in the shadows. Emerald light painted aravels nestled close to massive tree trunks. The air bloomed with the scent of crushed grass and decaying undergrowth. Fen’an knew this place. The only thing missing was the rest of his clan.

Solas’ looked away, taking in the landscape around them. He swallowed, closing his eyes as a soft breeze played with the hem of his tunic. “Is this where you feel most comfortable?”

Fen’an gravitated closer, until they were nearly touching, but not quite. “I’m not sure where I feel most comfortable anymore. But I know I feel something here, now.”

Solas’ cool grey eyes focused on him. “What do you feel?” His hand hovered in the space between them.

“I’m more interested in what you feel,” Fen’an tentatively cupped Solas’ cheek, brushing his thumb towards the corner of his mouth. A visible shiver rolled through Solas’ body.

“I feel unsure, worried about what will come. I feel elated, more so than I have in a very long time. I feel, despite myself, that you change everything.” he leaned into Fen’an’s touch.

“May I kiss you?” Fen’an asked, voice nearly lost under the whisper of the leaves above them.

“Please.”

Their mouths caught and melted. Solas’ lips parted, a soft breath catching in his throat. Fen’an kissed him, slow and deep, savoring the way Solas followed his lead after so many hungry weeks of imagining this. It felt so good, so real. He slowly, gently pulled back, scared that he might shatter this moment forever.

Solas chased his mouth, fingers sinking into his side. His nose dragged against Fen’an’s cheek before their lips met again. And again. A dizzying cascade of kisses, all of which Fen’an swallowed, desperately, eagerly.

All of that neediness crashed down over them, staying just as tight and tense in the air between them even as they slowed and paused, faces brushing, breathing heavily against each other’s cheeks.

“We shouldn’t do this,” Solas whispered, even as he dragged his nose against Fen’an’s cheek, lips dangerously close to his mouth. “It isn’t right.”

Fen’an fought the urge to kiss him again, instead brushing his thumb over his cheek again, soft and soothing. “Because it isn’t real?”

Solas smiled and caught his mouth once more, pressing another hungry kiss into his mouth. “That’s a matter for debate. A debate we will have when we’re both awake.”

Fen’an lips parted as they kissed again, sinking into the wet heat of Solas’ mouth. With a sudden flutter of cold air, the dream fell away. Fen’an woke, heat burning through his body, blankets gone and the sweat slicking his skin rapidly cooling.

He slumped against his bedroll, panting and unable to control his smile.

#

Despite that dream-promise, the following day granted them little time to speak, let alone debate anything. Cassandra roused them early, much to Varric’s displeasure, and they began preparations for the assault on the rift. The rest of the day was spent closing it. The dirty, bloody work of battle, then that horrible grating pain, Fen’an’s bones vibrating as the anchor shuddered in his palm and closed the rift, one wound healing another. He wanted to rest, soothe the raw nerve endings in his fingers after, but there were stray demons to kill and bandits who chose the wrong party to ambush.

Their voices bounced against the rocks. The scent of burning flesh ripped the air. Solas was next to him in battle, a humming pool of magic next to Fen’an’s own raw power. They caught each other’s eyes here and there. The kisses replayed in Fen’an’s mind as the chaotic work saw them to the very end of the day.

The pain in his hand stayed, strange and cold, his fingers numb as little bolts of pain crawled towards his elbow. It ached, a stripping feeling like the faint memory of someone cutting skin straight to the bone. He knew he should tell someone, but it was pointless. The pain came and went, raw and cutting one evening only to feel fine, even better than fine the next morning. So he kept it to himself as they put up their tents, made their beds, and readied for sleep. When they were back at Skyhold, if it still hurt, he would do something about it.

Cassandra and Varric turned in early. Fen’an’s body begged for the same, but he was drawn instead to the flickering fire and Solas’ profile, his body draped in shadows gathering around his cloak. When the sounds made their first round, disappearing around the tips of the tents, Fen’an sunk next to him. He sought Solas’ hand and rubbed his thumb over it, up towards his wrist.

For a moment, the air was still. Then Solas glanced at him and gently pulled his hand away. The loss of touch and the expression in his serious face shattered the easy confidence that had burned in Fen’an all day.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, shifting closer, worry instantly engulfing him.

“Nothing is wrong, Fen’an.”

It was subtle, so subtle, but the tenderness he had grown so used to was stripped from Solas’ voice. It was cold, pointedly neutral, and lacking something Fen’an had grown so accustomed to. It felt like a slap across the face. The night air cut to Fen’an’s bones.

He searched for words, but they all felt hollow. “Did I do something?”

For a brief second, Solas looked horrified. He deflated, a painful, heavy honesty settled in his gaze. “It is nothing you have done, please know that. But I beg you to put my lapse in judgement out of your mind. Let the dream fade, let it be nothing but a dream, to be forgotten as life moves on.” He reached out, tentative, cupping Fen’an’s cheek. “I made a grave error. I will not do this to you, for I respect you too much. It is better this way, for us both.”

Fen’an blanched. “That isn't fair. I don’t want to forget it.”

“Nothing in this world is fair. I will make my way back to Skyhold alone.”

Without another word, Solas rose and started off, shadows encasing him as he headed away from camp. Words gathered on Fen’an’s tongue and died there. He wanted to call after him. What could he say. Anger and overwhelming sadness warred in him, confusion blanketing them all. He was too tired to fight or argue, too tired to go after him, and in too much pain to think clearly. He sat there, cradling his throbbing hand, and wondered what had happened to break this tentative thing that had been growing between them.

#

It took hours to sleep, despite his exhaustion. His dreams were haunted by ghostly apparitions of Solas holding him, touching him, arms tangled around his body and mouth tucked against his neck. After the real thing, so solid in that first dream, they were poor imitations. He woke repeatedly, trying to shake them off. They refused to leave him alone.

When he woke late, Varric eyed him with worry, whispering to Cassandra here and there as they packed up the tents. He made a show of being fine, despite the ache still weighing on his hand. Soon they were back to their good natured bickering, which was the only thing that made the long, tiring journey back to Skyhold bearable.

He let himself be swept along by their welcome party, pulled into a round of drinks at the Herald’s Rest. He thought it might quell the horrible burrowing cold at the base of his stomach. It did nothing to help, as there was an empty space, a lack of presence that ruined any chances of merriment.

Later, when Skyhold was quiet and so many of the candles had been snuffed, Fen’an made his way to the rotunda cautiously. He slipped through the darkened hallways, careful with the heavy doors, and stepped into the soft lit space, hoping he’d find Solas alone.

The room was empty. Save for the subtle flicker of the blue flames, whispering to no one in particular. It lit Solas’ fresco stretching a small portion of the wall, illuminating one small detail. One section glistened, recently wet. The strong scent of pigment rested in the air, pushing against Fen’an’s nostrils. He sunk into Solas’ chair, watching the drafts rustle the pages of notes scattere across the table. He waited. The night waned until sunlight pushed its impatient fingers beneath the door. Fen’an drifted, half asleep. Solas never appeared.

#

Between the howling wind, pelting rain, and the groans of shambling undead somewhere in the tangled landscape, Crestwood enveloped them in a cold, unforgiving embrace. They moved like shadows from their shoddy camp at the edge of the lake bleeding green, their senses raw as they listened for shuffling footsteps or the swish of demons appearing from the shadows.

It took several days of wet travel by boat to get there and no one was particularly pleased. Several paces behind him, Blackwall grumbled under his breath. Solas was silent as he had been since the Hinterlands. The distance yawning between them had grown. Unsaid things festered in the quiet, since the dream, since the kiss, and since Solas backed away and left Fen’an unsure of everything. He wanted to be angry, but it never came. Instead, all he felt was sorrow and confusion. Frozen rain and threat of death was a good distraction.

Cole was the only member of the party that didn’t mind the wet landscape. He whispered to himself, flitting off between the rocks to do unseen things, always for the benefit of others. Fen’an watched and listened, grateful for the way Cole stuck to his side. A little swish of fabric, the soft clink of daggers, making noise purposefully to quietly remind Fen’an he was there.

“It misses sunlight, all of it, and you do too,” he murmured as they snuck around the jutting rocks, avoiding the road to obscure their position.

“Don’t you?” Fen’an asked, trying to catch his breath. Solas and Blackwall are talking quietly, the low thrum of their voices not carrying over the wind as they kept pace. Curiosity gnawed at Fen’an, made worse by the silent chasm.

“The rain is trying to help, to heal. It doesn’t understand that it isn’t what the ground needs. Water, too much water, rushing, crushing, on their faces and in their lungs. It drowned them and the earth. The clouds clump together, tight, cramped, craning their necks, bodies packed in the darkness, so scared, so tired, and so sick, their voices raw from screaming. When the hurt is mended, when that throbbing pain is gone, the rain will realize it isn’t needed here.”

Fen’an leaned on his staff, watching Cole. Light danced down the side of his pale, rain kissed face. “I hope you’re right.”

They gathered near an abandoned farm, packed together behind a half shattered stone wall. The torches of Caer Bronach danced and flickered, patrols marching the ramparts, watching over the land for any sign of resistance. Solas purposefully put Blackwall and Cole between them. Rain crawled down the back of Fen’an’s neck.

“Anyone have any suggestions?” He asked, his voice low beneath the rush of the rain.

Blackwall grunted, his armor grinding as he shifted position. His dark eyes scanned the ramparts. “They’ve got less troops than they want anyone to believe. But that doesn’t mean much when they’re locked up tight as can be in that castle. Unless you want to bust down the door with a volley of arrows and maker knows what raining on your head, we need to know what we’re dealing with. Have the scouts hit any weak spots and distract them.”

“I agree,” Solas’ spoke, not close enough but loud enough to be heard. He spoke to all of them, but his voice was directed at Fen’an. The attention set his skin alight. “I see no access points for easy movement of goods. They must be moving supplies somewhere. Cutting that chain will put holes in their operation. Then we can make our move.”

Suddenly, Cole’s voice broke the unsteady silence, louder than any of them had been, voice with the clarity of a bell. “You think he doesn’t see, doesn’t notice, a thousand little things, glances, words, and choices. So many thoughts jumbled in your mind heavy with aching, wanting so much, soft burning inside you that you can’t swallow. You’ve felt it before but not like this, not like soft hands, cool fingers, and his mouth warm and wet. You think he doesn’t see but—”

“Cole—” Solas warned, voice tense. It was futile.

“Yearning, hungry, haunting, too much like before, no, nothing like ever before because it’s new, it’s you. Your heart, thudding blood and muscle, glittering rows of teeth; more wise, more gentle, and so honest. Tenderness and violence tangled up like so many glittering stars. This world is lost, losing, empty, locked away from it all, but not you, bright shining, burning in the wasteland. A tide that pulls him aloft, fills his mouth, and steals his breath with love not pain. You’re too beautiful, too much, too real, and he wants you. He wants to tell you everything but he can’t, won’t, shouldn’t, he—”

“I haven’t got a damn clue what’s going on, so I think I’ll head off to scout the other side of the keep.” Blackwall said gruffly.

“An excellent idea,” Solas’ voice was clipped as he strode off, cloak spraying rain, disappearing before Blackwall could even catch up to him.

Cole’s frozen fingers brushed Fen’an’s cheek. The touch startled him into realizing he’d been holding his breath. Cole smiled, big and bright, his round eyes wet with tears, or rainwater, or both. “You think he doesn’t see, but he does. He sees everything you are, everything you do, more than you think, and he does the same. Follow, hover, nights in the library full of hope, mind too occupied to focus on books, work, sleep. Sleep, an old friend who won’t visit. Wants overflowing, uncooperative feet leading closer, as close as he can get, but never close enough. He would give anything for it to be simple and he will, he wants to. He’s good. He’s not like them, no cruel hands, cruel hearts, and crueler words. Gentle hands, desperate to touch and protect, soft in spirit, terrified and lonely. You are both so good.”

Emotion lodged in Fen’an’s throat. “What can I do to make him see that?”

Cole pulled his hand back and glanced after their companions. Laughter gathered in his voice. “I made him angry at me. It made him stop thinking. He’ll come to you.”

With that, he trailed after them, leaving Fen’an breathless as lightning sliced the sky and thunder shook the earth.

#

Cole was right.

It wasn’t until late in the night when they took refuge in a cave equidistant from the keep and the dragon’s hunting grounds, but Solas did come to him. He came when Blackwall was asleep, face covered by his shield, and Cole had disappeared to the mouth of the cave, his hat casting long shadows in the moonlight.

He came when Fen’an had almost calmed himself down enough for sleep. He hovered next to him, gentle fingers pressing against his shoulder. He looked so open, so solemnly afraid. Fen’an let Solas lead him deeper into the cave, to the point where there was nothing but time eroded stone. The distant light of their single torch barely illuminated Solas’ face. It glowed at the tips of his ears in a distant, uncertain way.

“I want to apologize,” he said, not looking Fen’an in the eyes. His hands hung artlessly at his sides as he wet his lips. “My actions hurt you. That was never my intent. I apologize deeply for any pain I have caused. I have…” his voice faltered, stopped up in his throat. “I have spent too much time alone. I have forgotten many things. That is no excuse and by no means absolves my behavior. It was childish and born out of fear. I wish to make it right. I never want to hurt you or make you feel as though you have done something wrong, especially not over my own complicated feelings.”

Fen’an let out a soft breath. “You don’t have to apologize. I just—”

“I do. I promise you, Fen’an, that I do. I am sorry.”

“I felt foolish. We never said anything concrete about this, about us. Even what did happen, it was in a dream. It felt ridiculous to be hurt by it. But still, it felt real. I worried I had broken it.”

Pain pinched Solas’ face. He reached out, fingers tentatively smoothing the rumpled edge of Fen’an’s shirt. “We have said so much with very few words. Which is precisely why I need to apologize. It was my own worries, my own anxieties over all of the possibilities of what we could be, what we could say, that kept us from putting it into words. Being vulnerable was never a skill I learned. I would like to learn, with you, if you would have me.”

Fen’an shivered, watching Solas in the relative darkness. He stepped forward, sliding his hands down Solas’ sides and gently, pulling him closer.

“It has never been my strong point either. I would be honored to learn, by your side.”

Solas’ eyelids lowered and he cupped Fen’an’s face. The distance between them closed, Fen’an’s arms sliding around Solas’ waist. He brushed his nose against Solas’ cheek, nerves alight. This was real, no dream, nothing borne of his imagination, yet it felt exactly the same as that kiss in the depths of the dream. Solas’ breath caught and his arms encased Fen’an. His lips brushed down Fen’an’s cheek. He pressed the softest, lightest kiss into his jaw, before he tucked his face into the crook of his neck. Fen’an sunk his fingers into Solas’ back and breathed him in.

“Thank you, vhenan.” Solas whispered against Fen’an’s neck.

At the mouth of the cave, Cole leaned against the rocks, basking in the waves of pure joy and comfort reaching towards him through the fade. He smiled, a happy smile as he listened to them whisper to each other, and watched the rain flatten the grass in the valley below.

#

Someone was speaking. The slow murmur of voices just barely broke through the film of Fen’an’s consciousness. Heat permeated his limbs. Somewhere a fire crackled, though it almost sounded like the burbling trickle of a swiftly moving brook. The dream tugged at the edges of his mind, subsuming him. Whispering rashvine. The scent of rich, damp earth. Sunlight and shadows cast by a statue watching them both. The wet heat of his mouth, lips dragging down the sensitive skin of Fen’an’s neck. Fingers beneath shirts, searching with hazy insistence. Languid touching, urgency a distant memory, as though pleasure could be prolonged until it lasted forever.

“Inquisitor?”

A voice broke through the heat, threatening to shatter the fragile parameters of the dream. Solas’ mouth tasted like a smile as he said something indistinct. The dream rippled and then finally broke.

“Inquisitor, are you alright?”

Fen’an blinked, his vision wavering as he returned to the warm, dry heat of Skyhold. It took him a moment to remember. Three days journey back to the castle in heavy, rain soaked armor. Work rushing to greet them, so many things to work on and attend to, too much to think about. An attendant stood waiting for his attention, her brows furrowed with concern as he shook away the last vestiges of sleep.

“I’m sorry, I... I dozed off.” He rubbed his eyes. “What were you saying?”

The dream stayed, through so many meetings and pointed discussions with his Advisors. It hung at the edges of his mind, close enough to savor, but not close enough to get lost in. He thought of Solas, yearning overwhelming him.

It wasn’t until later that hunger was satiated.

He ascended the tower, escaping the perpetual movement into the quiet solitude of the only space that was truly his. However, for the first time in memory, he didn’t find it empty.

Instead, Solas stood by the fire, lit by the flames, with his hands clasped behind his back as he waited. Where he was usually so perfectly put together, tonight his shirt had been left open, revealing a strip of skin all the way down his chest. His eyes caught on Fen’an as he made his way up the steps and that subtle openness burned in his eyes, matched by the smile on his lips.

“Sleep well?” He asked. The lilt of his voice sent a flutter through Fen’an’s stomach.

“Spectacularly,” Fen’an replied, letting himself be drawn in by Solas’ magnetism. He orbited closer, almost close enough to touch, though he kept his hands to himself. "Falling asleep in a meeting, really did wonders for my image.”

“Ah, yes. Your image,” Solas murmured, eyes narrowing and that smile growing a little wider still. “We return yet again to you astride a valiant steed, rushing to everyone’s rescue.”

“Griffon,” Fen’an corrected.

“I see bringing species back from extinction is one of your talents in the future.”

“No,” Fen’an murmured, the space between the disappearing. “But I hear anything is possible in dreams.”

Solas’ gaze dropped to his mouth. In the firelight, his eyes had gone molten. He reached out, breaching the space between them and sliding a hand down Fen’an’s chest, an unspoken victory, sweet in more ways than one.

“Dreams are so much easier than this. Fluid and poetic, open to so many possibilities,” his voice was stripped and quiet, vulnerable.

Fen’an pressed closer, until they were touching. He let their noses just barely brush, their mouths a breath apart. “This world has its own kind of poetry.”

“That it does.”

In the dancing, licking firelight, they kissed for the second first time. This kiss wasn’t any more real than any of the kisses in their dreams. Solas’ lips were just as warm and gentle, returning each press of his mouth with tentative hunger. It was just as needy, powerful, and breathtaking. Yet here, in reality, a sweet honest tenderness bloomed between them. They learned each other’s mouths yet again and found that in each other’s arms, they felt at home.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, letting me know what you thought about it would be much appreciated. Thank you so much for reading!


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